Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Marshall Islands and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Sound to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by 10cc. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Mark Hollis,
Interpol,
Inner City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brothers Johnson,
Rapeman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sister Nancy,
Dennis Brown,
Ken Boothe,
Surgeon,
UT,
Judy Mowatt,
The American Breed,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Malaria!,
Television,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
Arab on Radar,
Eric Copeland,
This Heat,
Delta 5,
Cluster,
Spandau Ballet,
Zero Boys,
Scrapy,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Motions,
Vainqueur,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Carl Craig,
Ohio Players,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Brass Construction,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
D'Angelo,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Slackers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
New Order,
Yazoo,
H. Thieme,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heaven 17,
The Barracudas,
The Trojans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Black Moon,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
the Bar-Kays,
The Residents,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.